


Affection is False

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blackcest, First Time, M/M, MWPP Era, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-07
Updated: 2005-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Regulus tries to convince Sirius not to run away from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affection is False

**Author's Note:**

> [Circa 2005]

Sirius' ears are still ringing from the blow his mother landed on the side of his face; he doesn't hear his bedroom door creak open, doesn't hear Regulus slip inside his room. He doesn't hear Regulus' bare feet shuffling across the carpet, or the door closing behind him with a whispered click.

He doesn't know his brother is in the room until Regulus speaks his name.

Sirius starts when he sees Regulus, just as he always does when his brother comes upon him suddenly. Looking at Regulus is like looking in a mirror; the differences are so few and slight they hardly matter at all. Regulus is shorter, a bit thinner, and a little too sharp in the jaw, but they have the same face, the same features, same sleek black hair and steel-gray eyes.

Emotions flit across Regulus' face, a sure sign that youth cannot be tempered by even the harshest bloodlines. His face as a whole is stony and smooth, the same mask all members of House Black are expected to wear from sunrise to moonrise, but _here_ it is nearly smug, a slight tug at the corners of his mouth that says Sirius only received the beating he's been begging for since breakfast, and _there_ he almost shows concern, a hint of softness in his eyes that says he's worried Mother's finally managed to hurt Sirius.

His brother speaks his name again, softer than before, so softly it could be Sirius' imagination. And perhaps it is, because it sounds wrong, it lacks the venom he is so used to from everyone else in this house.

Regulus takes a nervous step towards him, his mouth parted around a sentence that seems to have died on his tongue. After two more steps he freezes, pulling a sharp breath through his nose when he sees the large bruise purpling across Sirius' cheekbone.

"The usual," Sirius supplies, before Regulus can ask. "I'm a disappointment. A disgrace. A blot on the name of Black." He laughs, a single, mirthless bark. "I'm a blood-traitor. Worse than a Weasley. Disgusting. Unnatural."

"Stop," Regulus says quietly.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Sirius asks sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Sorted into the wrong house, and friends with the wrong sort."

"You shouldn't provoke her, Sirius," Regulus replies.

"Don't you dare take her side!" Sirius snaps, jumping to his feet.

As Sirius draws near, Regulus' eyes move from Sirius' face to his arm, lingering on the scratch running from his wrist to the crease of his elbow. It's long and thin, the kind of gash made by a sharp fingernail, red and angry and still sluggishly weeping blood.

"She only hits you when you provoke her," Regulus counters, gesturing to Sirius' cheek.

"I won't let her talk about my friends like that," Sirius says simply.

"Just friends?" Regulus asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You were listening!" Sirius accuses.

"Well, you were shouting!" Regulus returns. "I couldn't help but hear it. You'd think you and Mother didn't know what a Silencing Charm was."

Sirius glares at his brother, his face darkening and his eyes flashing, but Regulus pays him no mind.

"So it's true, then?" Regulus asks, tilting his head to mirror Sirius.

"It is," Sirius admits.

"That's why she hit you," Regulus murmurs. It's not a question.

He reaches out, touching a finger to Sirius' cheek. It trails over the bruise gently, barely hovering over the swollen skin, but Sirius jerks away, wincing, and wrenches his brother's hand away by the wrist.

"Why him?" Regulus asks, the familiar venom returning. "You could do better, even if you prefer blokes."

"Don't talk about him," Sirius warns, stepping closer to Regulus.

"He's a half-breed, Sirius," Regulus went on, trying to pull his arm away. "He has no money and no name."

"I told you not to talk about him," Sirius growls, his fingers tightening around Regulus' wrist, his other hand fisting a handful of Regulus' shirt.

"I'm not scared of you," Regulus says.

Despite his words, Regulus drops Sirius gaze, and he tries to step back, but he can't, not with his wrist trapped in Sirius' hand and his shirt snagged in Sirius' fingers. He struggles for a moment, trying to jerk his arm back, trying to pry Sirius' fingers away, sneering when Sirius laughs at him.

"I thought you weren't scared of me," Sirius remarks, his tone almost amused.

"I'm not."

"You should be."

Sirius steps into Regulus, ready to turn him around and push him towards the door, but he stops, a smile playing lightly over his lips. Regulus is breathing fast, a sharp, staccato rhythm that could be equated with fear, but a heated flush is spreading over his face, and he's hard against Sirius' hip.

Regulus' eyes grow large when Sirius leans into him, wide with both arousal and fear, and his mouth works soundlessly, grasping desperately for words, for explanations or apologies or both. But Sirius doesn't want Regulus to speak, he doesn't want to hear it, because there has always been far too much talk in this house.

Regulus finds his voice when Sirius pushes him onto the bed, and he starts to protest as Sirius falls on top of him, but Sirius doesn't give him the chance, silencing him with a kiss. It's soft and slow, one pair of lips moving over their mirror image, but it's not gentle or loving, and Sirius' tongue is insistent when it pushes inside Regulus' mouth.

Sirius pulls back for a moment, looking at his brother, looking at his own reflection, at tangled black hair spread over the duvet and red, kiss-swollen lips. Regulus' familiar eyes are wide and dark, and when Sirius leans down again there is a flash of fear in them that makes heat flare over his body.

He kisses his brother again, harder and rougher, nipping at Regulus' lower lip until Regulus gasps, his tongue sliding slickly against Regulus', demanding participation. Underneath him, Regulus struggles, pushing at Sirius, working to untangle their legs, but Sirius keeps kissing him, because he knows what his brother wants, he saw it in his eyes. He rocks against Regulus and Regulus goes still, a small noise catching in his throat, and the hands on Sirius' shoulders start clutching instead of shoving, and his tongue snakes out to meet Sirius' own.

Regulus gasps when Sirius magics their clothes away with a muttered spell, averting his eyes and blushing like girl. Sirius is reminded sharply of how young his brother is, but Sirius shoves the thought away, burying it beneath the feel of his brother's body underneath his, drowning it out with the sound Regulus makes when Sirius' hand closes around his cock.

"Is this what you wanted, then?" Sirius asks, his lips trailing over a jaw angled so much like his own, the words spoken against his brother's skin.

Regulus rasps something out, but the words are broken and choked, and they twist into a moan as Sirius' fingers move over his cock, slow strokes from base to tip, stopping only to tease his thumb over the head.

Sirius works his way down his brother's chest, lips and tongue and teeth moving over soft, young skin. He teases his brother's nipples, his tongue swirling around them, flicking across the nubs, and kisses a trail down his brother's stomach, his hand never leaving Regulus' cock. Regulus shifts under him beautifully, desperately, bucking into Sirius' hand, arching against his mouth.

And Sirius keeps his eyes open when he takes Regulus in his mouth, watching Regulus' body stiffen as his lips slide over the head, watching Regulus' lips part for a low moan as he swirls his tongue around the shaft. Sirius takes Regulus all the way in and Regulus' eyes snap open, and when they lock with Sirius' Regulus comes, hot and thick down the back of Sirius' throat.

Regulus is still gasping and shaking when Sirius moves up to kiss him, breathing hard into Sirius' mouth, his tongue slow and lazy with release. His hands move up to Sirius' shoulders again, braver now, tracing the curve of Sirius' neck, mapping out the muscles in his arms.

"Is this what you meant, when you said I could do better?" Sirius asks, his hand moving back between his brother's legs.

"No," Regulus says quickly, starting when Sirius' fingers trail over his sated cock and slip under his balls.

"I think it was," Sirius says, hissing a spell under his breath and circling his brother's entrance.

"He's practically a Muggle, Sirius," Regulus argues.

"Yes. Half of him _is_ a Muggle, but he's still worth a hundred of you," Sirius returns, pushing two fingers inside.

Sirius doesn't know if the indignant sound Regulus makes is from the insult or the intrusion, doesn't know if Regulus is twisting the sheets in his hands from pleasure or pain, but he doesn't care. He works his fingers in and out of his brother's body slowly, warming and loosening, a firm hand on his hip to keep him still.

He kisses Regulus as he enters him, a parody of tenderness, pushing inside slowly, each inching thrust punctuated with a flutter of lips and tongue. Regulus is pushing at him again, closing his mouth against him, but Sirius ignores it, mouthing a wet line across Regulus' jaw and down his neck, his fingers smoothing over Regulus' chest and sides.

"I hate you," Regulus hisses, as Sirius leans back and digs his fingers into his waist.

"Believe me, Regulus, I hate you more."

Sirius pulls back and thrusts, angling just right, and Regulus goes boneless, his head tossing against the pillow, and he whines, high and desperate, and it's the loveliest sound Sirius has ever heard.

And he kisses Regulus again, because Regulus' lips are flushed and wet and begging for it. Regulus' mouth falls open easily, at the first touch of Sirius' tongue, and he kisses Sirius back hard, his fingers unwinding from the duvet to tangle is Sirius' hair.

"I thought you said this isn't what you want," Sirius grates out, his lips grazing his brother's ear.

"It isn't," Regulus hisses.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sirius asks, snapping his hips in away that makes Regulus whimper and arch off the bed.

"No," Regulus says.

Sirius thrusts, again and again, arousal coiled tight in his belly, pleasure coursing through his body. His heart is hammering in his chest like it means to explode, and his blood feels like it is on fire, rushing hot and dangerous through his veins.

Underneath him, Regulus is shifting, rocking up to meet his movements, his hands sliding down Sirius' back, pushing him closer, his fingernails cutting desperate patterns into Sirius' skin. And Regulus is hot and tight around him, his body welcoming each of Sirius' thrusts, his legs sweaty where they are tangled with Sirius' own, his cock hard between their bodies.

Sirius can't stop looking, can't stop watching the way Regulus moves, the way his face contorts when Sirius hits that spot inside him, the way the lines of his throat flex and shift when he moans. He can't stop watching his brother, who looks so much like him, who could be him if he wasn't a spoilt rich bastard obsessed with pureblood pride.

Regulus cries out when Sirius takes his cock in his hand, his body tensing, his pink tongue snaking out to wet his parted lips. Sirius strokes him, harsh and rough, and Regulus tries to form words, a jumble of nonsense spilling from his lips, as close to begging as someone with his breeding and bloodlines is allowed.

And when Regulus comes, warm and thick around Sirius' hand, Sirius wonders what Mother would say if she could see them, the son she hates buried inside the son she loves, wonders what she would think of Regulus if she could see him writhing and moaning on the end of Sirius' cock.

But that thought leaves him, torn away by Regulus' body tightening around him, his smugness washed away by a wave of pleasure so sharp and bright it's overwhelming. He thrusts again and stills, his body turning itself inside out, his vision blurring to black around the edges, and he comes, deep inside his brother, comes so long and hard his stomach disappears like he's touched a portkey and he can't remember how to breath.

Regulus doesn't get up when Sirius rolls off of him, doesn't take the clothes Sirius hands him or move to put them on. He just watches Sirius with curious, gray eyes, staring as Sirius roots Muggle clothes out of his Hogwarts trunk and puts them on, as he shrinks everything he owns and stows it in that very same trunk and coaxes his owl into her cage.

He doesn't speak when Sirius pulls his broomstick out from under the bed and throws open the window, but Sirius doesn't give him the chance.

"Get out," Sirius says, as he Charms his trunk to stay on the end of his broom. "Get out, and lock the door behind you."

"Why?" Regulus asks, his hands shaking as he fumbles stupidly with his robes.

"Because I am leaving," Sirius says shortly.

"Where are you going?"

"Like I would tell you," Sirius says, "You'd send that banshee after me straight off."

"You're going off with your half-breed," Regulus says.

"No," Sirius replies truthfully.

As much as he wants to see Remus, it's not safe, not with the Lupin's house so far in the country and them living almost like Muggles. The Potter's would be less of a risk; Mrs. Potter has already said he is welcome, and the Potter's are rich enough and powerful enough that his parents wouldn't dare lift a hand towards them.

"Why?" Regulus asks again, petulance edging his voice. "Why are you leaving?"

"Because there is nothing here for me," Sirius returns, with the same venom he's heard all his life. "There never has been, and there never will be."


End file.
